


Bank Job

by meekobuggy (meekobb)



Category: NCIS and Stargate: Atlantis crossover
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekobb/pseuds/meekobuggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziva David and John Sheppard meet and form a unique bond under the most stressful situations. When they are finally reunited, they must depend on one another to begin to feel normal again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **AUTHORS NOTES:** This story was written for our friend Kathi, who graciously donated to the _HelpTheSouth_ fundraiser for those affected by the tornadoes and other natural disasters the southern part of the United States endured during the summer of 2011. This is a completely AU crossover fic. If you like or love, leave a few words in a review please! Thanks!

"I know this is difficult Ms. David, but we need to get as much information on the guy as possible," FBI Agent Evan Lorne said as he set a fresh cup of their bad coffee in front of her.

"It's _Agent_ David," Ziva corrected as she glared up at the man.

Evan sighed as he sat at the table across from her. "My apologies."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you anything, it's just that I don't have the information that you want," she explained again. "The men had ski masks on. Only one of them talked but I doubt that I would be able to identify him from a line up."

"Okay," he said, shuffling through the papers in the folder he brought back with him before she asked her own questions.

"Where are my people? NCIS? I'm sure that we can help with finding them. Maybe then it'll give the man they took a chance."

"One thing at a time, okay? Now, I'm going to show you a number of photos and I want to know if you recognize anyone." Lorne set the glossies on the table where she glared at them.

Shaking her head, Ziva sighed. "They were masked -"

"I know. I'm hoping to identify the man they were holding with you before you escaped."

She took a deep breath and nodded before pulling the pile of photos closer, rubbing her arm where her attacker injected her with some drug over the course of her confinement. Coming across the familiar face, the kind hazel eyes and easily recognizable hair that had a life of its own, she held it up. "This is him. He is the reason that I am sitting here talking to you now."

Evan looked from the number on the photo to the reference list he held. "Thank you Agent David. If we need anything else we will contact you -"

"Wait! Can't you tell me his name at least? I was never able to talk to him like that," she asked, nearly begging in her eyes.

The FBI agent looked at her before pulling the page back out. "Air Force Colonel John Sheppard," he said. "I will see if Agent Fornell could give you a ride to wherever you wish. I still insist you should go to the hospital and get checked out."

Ziva considered it, and after a few moments she nodded. "Fine. That's fine. Just make sure someone calls NCIS to help. Please. He was a good man."

"I will see what I can do. That I can promise. Now lets get you some medical attention," Lorne smiled weakly as he held out his hand to help her up and out of the office.

* * *

Well at least she was out and no doubt she'd be well taken care of once she alerted the authorities of the situation. Ziva, was her name, and she had been so very brave during the last few weeks, months? He didn't know. He did know that they were in some sort of residential area, as he and Ziva had been kept in the basement of a home. There weren't any windows, and since _they_ , whoever they were, took all of their belongings including watches, cell phones and their shoes for some weird reason, John had no way of telling the time.

He wasn't even supposed to be in that bank when these guys came in, guns drawn, ski-masks on their heads, but he needed to take care of some business. Nancy had been threatening to sue him over unpaid alimony and that was the last thing he wanted. It was bad enough already that he still had been suspended for trying to save his fellow soldiers in Afghanistan and definitely defying orders while doing so.

That had been last year.

Not that he had money problems. He had never touched the trust fund his father had set up for him when John went to college. He had always worked for his own money, to pay for his own tuition and his first car. Sure, he had been a complete asshole towards his ex-wife, but that didn't mean she'd have to threaten him to give her some money.

Not that he had told Ziva. She was feeling bad enough as it was, and scared. He wasn't scared. Hell, he had nothing else to do anyway. Ziva had been talking most of the time. Telling him about her job, she worked for NCIS, and about her co-workers whom she clearly missed. Then some things about her past. And her boyfriend problems. " _Whatever I do, whomever I choose, they always end up hurting me. I'm done,"_ she had said, and John felt more guilty about the way he had treated Nancy. Mostly exactly the same as the guys Ziva had described to him.

It wasn't for a lack of trying on Ziva's part that he didn't talk about himself. He couldn't even remember if he had told her his name, but he didn't feel like he had to. He had always been a private person, and he actually liked listening to Ziva's rambles. It made him stop thinking about the pain in his leg that the bad guys had broken out of boredom.

Now the reason why he and Ziva ended up in the asshole's grasp were that neither of them were willing to sacrifice the people present in the bank. She, being an NCIS agent, was valuable and he, being an Air Force Officer, was equally valuable. He just didn't tell them that he was suspended for unauthorized heroics and that they probably wouldn't care.

For all the time being locked up in the basement with Ziva, the men never came downstairs without their ski masks. They never told them who they were, and what they were going to do with them. Meals weren't that frequent; it was as if John was back being ten years old, and often forgetting to feed his pet rat. Only this time, he was the rat. And currently an even more drugged rat than the past round of dosages he had received from them to keep him quiet.

He and Ziva, mostly Ziva, had come up with a plan to get them both out of there. However, John, due to his sloppily set broken leg, was too slow with getting out of the house and had to stay behind while he urged Ziva to make a run for it. And she did. He was glad she did. Brave Ziva.

No doubt that they were going to move him soon.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gibbs - we need to work this from our end. I truly do not think that the FBI know how crazy these people are," Ziva repeated as she followed him into the bullpen. He had met her at Bethesda for when the FBI dropped her off but since she laid eyes on him, she was a woman on a mission.

Even the relieved looks on her friends faces weren't enough for her to deter her concern for her fellow prisoner considering she'd been missing for nearly four months.

" _You_ need to go home and rest," her boss replied and shook his head, he had disagreed with her at the hospital for signing herself out. "I only took you here so everyone could say 'hi'."

"I appreciate that but you know -"

"You need to rest, Ziva," Tony smiled at her. "And eat, you look like you could use some food, a shower, a bed and maybe some more food."

Ziva turned and glared at him. "Are you volunteering yourself because I could have become very much a cannibal while I was away," she growled.

"You've been gone for _four_ months! Let us try and pick up the trail and find them. Go home."

She shook her head as she paced the floor, her hands wringing themselves around her wrists in agitation from the withdrawal of the opiates that they drugged them up with. "I won't be able to sit still. I need to do something," she mumbled as she eyed everyone and their movements with paranoia.

"Go home, you're making me nervous," McGee muttered as he kept typing away on his computer. Fornell, being the best friend of his boss, had given them some leads to start with, only it had to be on the down-low and McGee was currently trying to hack the FBI database in search for more clues.

"Take a Xanax then," she snapped only for Gibbs to give a nod to Tony who practically had to drag her out of the area. "What? What are you doing?" she asked trying to push him off but the time without proper nutrition and exercise left her weak against the strength of men as fit as he was.

"Let's get you home," Tony smiled. "We'll go food shopping first, and I'll make you some delicious pasta. Then, you'll rest. And when you wake up, we'll see what's going to happen. Let Abby, Gibbs and McGee do what they do best."

She looked at him, blinking her eyes as she tried to register what he said. "We have to find him. He doesn't belong there - he doesn't deserve that. They will kill him. I believe that strongly."

"We will find him, Ziva. We will. And you're going to help us, but you can't do that right now." Tony put an arm around Ziva and directed her towards the elevator. "You're not thinking straight, you're jittery and you need to eat and sleep. No doubt the FBI has their best people working on it now, and we're going to do the same."

She nodded absently as she let him lead her out and to his car. She was very much like a walking zombie, not really knowing her surroundings or acknowledging them. Ziva mumbled incoherent words as she followed Tony aimlessly.

* * *

He woke up in a very cold place, darker than the basement he had been in with Ziva for a long time and his head was groggy and pounding. He managed to sit up but had to throw up as soon as he did and then he realized that they must have dropped him on the head or kicked him when he was out.

Throwing up on an empty stomach didn't feel too good either. The last time he recalled eating was when Ziva was still there with him. Oh, how glad he was she was out there now, being taken care of by her team, getting medical attention, food and a decent bed.

John finally stopped throwing up and rested his head against the wall. It was thick and solid; and it had a smooth surface. Well, he thought, this could very well mean the end.

Should these people kill him off for being a compliant hostage who only tried to escape once, then he had no regrets or last wishes. Well, maybe one. He wanted to see Ziva healthy and happy. He had grown a liking to her during the time they had been together, maybe he liked her even more than he liked to admit, having had to hear all her horror stories about her boyfriends made him loose hope fast. He'd never want to hurt her. Hell, one time they gave him the wrong dosage of sedative and he managed to hit a few of the guys when they were taking advantage of Ziva. Pigs. Poor Ziva.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to listen for any noise coming from outside the walls and he heard nothing. Maybe they did leave him somewhere nobody could find him and maybe they had fled the country.

At least he'd never have to deal with Nancy ever again.

He closed his eyes and evened his breathing. If he'd be able to fall asleep, he wouldn't have to think so much anymore. John wasn't surprised when he heard a big door open, some disembodied voices he couldn't really make sense of. Did that mean that he was going to have to deal with Nancy again? Or did they come to shoot him dead?

He slowly opened his eyes and flinched when the light of torches shone in his face. "John Sheppard?" a voice asked.

"You've got the wrong guy," John managed to reply. "Kill me already, this has been going on long enough."

"Ziva would kill us if we did."

He was then hauled to his feet by two strong men, one smelling faintly of sawdust and the other of expensive cologne and he decided there and then that the world didn't make any sense anymore.

It had been nearly three weeks after Ziva's own rescue that the team managed to get a lead on the location where her friend was being held hostage. Of course, when they got there, not one of the suspects were around. In fact, it had appeared that they hadn't been around for several days, leaving Sheppard to die in that musty basement.

She was happy that they at least let her join them on the raid considering she wasn't cleared to return to active duty yet. Unfortunately, Ziva was not allowed actually go in but stayed out with McGee in the car.

"Where are you taking me now?" John muttered as the two men had dragged him up the stairs. They were probably going to throw him down the stairs and hope he'd break his neck.

"We're taking you to the hospital, buddy," one of the men replied. "I suggest you close your eyes, we're about to take a walk in the sunlight."

"You're not making any sense."

The guy huffed out a laugh. "You know, Ziva said the same thing. She's waiting outside to make sure you are fine."

"I think I've died and the after life doesn't make much sense," John flinched when the door of the building opened and the sun shone right in his face. "See? There's the big white light."

"You'll be fine," the other man replied. "Where's the bus, boss?"

"We're taking him to the hospital, I don't want to alert the FBI just yet." Another man replied and John felt him shrug. "Besides, I think that Ziva would raise hell, again, if he'd be taken away without her."

Tim turned around and smiled at Ziva. "Look!" he pointed outside, "Tony and Gibbs found him!" The man looked more of a zombie than Ziva had been just a few weeks ago. She was looking a bit healthier now, but everyone could tell that she was still damaged from the event.

She was almost plastered to the back window of the sedan as she watched her friends pull him out. The previously tall, healthy, good looking man looked nothing like the one she remembered from the bank. What they were dragging out was a thin shell. Ziva reached for the door only to find that they had put on the childproof security on it. "Let me out McGee," she growled as she slammed her hand against the window.

"Don't break him," McGee jokingly said as he got out of the car and opened her door.

Ziva sprinted from the car to go help them with him. "Are you alright? It is me John," she said as she reached them and nudged her way in to help carry the weight of the man.

"Ziva..." Tony sighed as he got pushed away by his friend. John nearly took a tumble but Gibbs managed to keep him upright.

John chuckled as he felt Ziva's familiar form against his. Even in this weird after life, he was happy to feel something familiar. "Heaven," he smiled.

"No, not heaven but when you get that steak and potatoes you spoke of, then you will be there," she grinned after glaring her partner a warning. "We will be at the hospital before you realize it."

"I'm not dead?" John managed to open his eyes and not get his eyes burned, it did make him feel sick again. For some reason the trip to the car would have been a lot easier if he could use his leg properly. "Damn..."

"Gibbs? How are we all going to fit in the car?" she asked, realizing that she had ridden in the back with Tony on the way. Considering his size, it would be a tight and painful fit for Sheppard.

"I'll take a cab," McGee offered. "Or the bus, and I'll go to the office and try to stall Fornell a bit longer. His people have been sending me texts all day."

"Fair enough," Gibbs replied, opened the door to the car's rear and gently helped Sheppard on to the back seat.

Ziva went in on the other side so that she could help pull him in and let him lay against her for support. "You're safe now," she repeated softly to him. Turning to Tony she frowned. "Can you get his next of kin or someone from Abby and call them to have them meet us?"

"No... please don't," John sighed as he settled against Ziva.

"What about that Teyla friend of yours? Who you told me you saved from her husband?" she asked.

"She... no." John shook his head slowly. "No one. Maybe later, not now."

"Okay. It's okay," she said. She just held him as Gibbs drove, wishing him better already. There was so much more about him that she learned the past weeks but despite everything, she wanted more and from him himself.

* * *

John was definitely not dead. He realized that as soon as they got into the hospital - he hated hospitals - and Dr. Carson Beckett was there. Beckett had been his family doctor and had been there to pronounce Sheppard's father dead when he finally went. Of course, it could all have been a major coincidence, but Sheppard feared that his brother may have pulled some strings with his best buddy, the Secretary of the Navy.

Carson poked and prodded him everywhere until it hurt, then hooked him up to some IV's filled with saline and something gooey, probably having something to do with blood. He just wanted to sleep and had fallen asleep during the assessment.

Ziva sat at his bedside through the entire assessment and refused to leave after John succumbed to his exhaustion and weakness. As much as she wanted to be at his side even during the surgery on his leg, she stayed in the waiting room, toying with her phone. She debated with herself whether she should go against his wishes on contacting someone from his family to let them know but she was afraid of his disapproval. Why she worried about his approval or disapproval confused her greatly.

John woke up from his sleep; he was confused and felt alone and sad. He didn't understand why he was in a bed, unfamiliar at that, and why there was an obvious IV line in his hand. It stung like hell. He took a deep breath and couldn't stop himself from crying. Then it hit him - he had been put under and they had done something with his leg. There was no other explanation for crying like this.

He managed to bring one of his hands to his face and put it over his eyes, willing them to stop shedding tears. "Stupid surgery," he muttered, and sincerely hoped he was alone. At the Air Force, whenever he had to have surgery - which had been only twice, once to get his appendix out, the second time because he had been in a helicopter crash and broke most of his bones - they would put him in a private room until he was stable, because he knew he was an emotional wreck when waking up from anesthesia.

Ziva had fallen asleep, curled up in the chair beside his bed while she waited for him to awaken. The sound of muttering and jingling from tubing clanging against steel poles stirred her awake. "Hmm..." she hummed as she rubbed at her eyes. Looking around confused, she saw no staff in the room which spurred her to look over to whom she kept vigil. "You're awake," she said softly.

Crap, he thought and sighed. "Yep, and you're here."

"I told you that I would come back for you," she smiled as she shifted the chair closer. "You have some color back already. How are you feeling?"

"Like I could sleep some more," he replied and then removed his hand from his eyes to look at her. "You're looking good."

"Haven't had much of a choice. My team refused to let me help with the search for you for the first week and even now they don't let me do much of anything," she smiled. "The doctors said you will be here for at least a week. More if you have no place to stay..."

John shook his head smiling with an incredulous look on his face. "You've been reading up on me, haven't you?"

Ziva shrugged a shoulder innocently. "I would not be an NCIS agent if I was not thorough. You're welcome to stay with me. I have an extra room and everything is on one floor so no stairs. Elevator access to my floor as well. You cared for me there - let me help you."

He thought for a moment and knew it wasn't a good idea. "You've spent weeks cooped up with me, haven't had enough of me yet?" He joked. "I'll be fine, thanks for the offer though."

"Actually I haven't," she replied sitting up straighter. "If anything I feel more at ease around you. I don't know - almost safer."

"I didn't manage to keep you safe, Ziva. You found your way out on your own."

"You made sure that I got out of there. You did what you could despite everything. Besides - what am I going to do with all that hospital equipment that I managed to talk NCIS into covering for you if you don't come with me?" she asked.

John took a deep breath. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"You will find that we will drive each other bonkers before we know it but I am not about to let you off in the world without knowing if you are going to be alright."

He hated to see that determined look on her face. It was the same look that Nancy had when she had taken him in after a bar fight where he needed stitches, and even though it was nice for a while, things went the wrong way quickly, and it was mostly his fault. "I'm always going to be alright, you won't have to worry about that, but thank you."

Ziva narrowed her eyes on him before nodding slowly. "Dr. Beckett was in before you woke up - and evidently before I nodded off - but he said that the surgery to repair your leg went well. Are you willing to try to eat or drink something? They left some bread and broth here if you wanted something."

He managed to sit up a little straighter and nodded. He could eat a whole horse, but probably would throw it right up again. Broth would have to do. For now.

She grinned at him as she stood to bring the lunch cart over to him. Setting him up she helped him adjust himself in bed so that he was more comfortable. "Is there anything else you need? I'm just going to go let the nurse know you're up."

"I'm good," John nodded and started on the broth, savouring the taste of it. "This is good stuff."


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later, Ziva was finally allowed to go back to work regularly. As much as she wished to stay home to care for John herself, she knew that it would not help in trying to find out who it was that kidnapped them and why. They were two strangers and despite their willingness to cooperate and their ranks - the fragmented memories that came to her indicated that the masked men had fixated on them from the beginning.

Unlike Ziva, Sheppard wasn't fixated on finding the guys responsible for kidnapping him and Ziva. One one hand, he would have loved to see them brought to justice, only for hurting Ziva, but there wasn't much that _he_ could do. He had been in contact with his CO at Cheyenne Mountain and Landry was glad that John was okay, that as soon as he was all better that he'd have a ' _great gig'_ for him.

John wasn't sure if he wanted that. In all fairness, he had grown tired of the Air Force and their narrow minds. He didn't deserve all the grief he had received over defying orders in order to save a couple of Americans who got shot down in the sandbox.

Now that he wasn't dead, he was thinking about a career change. He could do without a job for a while, living off his father's inheritance, but he - at this point - was done being a pilot.

Ziva had been nothing but kind to him; letting him stay in her guest room, cooking him dinner, taking care of him and making sure that he was okay. He, in return, watched silly comedies with her on TV after dinner, helped her out with the laundry if he could, and even emptied the dishwasher, putting all the stuff on the counters as he didn't know where everything was supposed to go and _if_ he'd leave his wheelchair, Ziva had said she'd break his other leg so he wouldn't be able to stand up at all.

He heard her screaming at night, more often than he was willing to admit and he didn't know what to do about it. He knew that she was having nightmares and probably about their ordeal, but he could hardly go to her in the middle of the night and talk to her about them. It wasn't his place to do so, and by the time she was awake, he felt too much of a coward to ask her about them.

In the mornings, Ziva felt extremely tired and worn out, as if she hadn't slept at all. Usually by the time she made it to the office, she was able to appear normal but that was only because she had maybe three cups of coffee in her already, at least. She was relieved that it was Saturday and she had off so that she could sleep in a little longer but her body simply would not let her. Hearing the sounds of something knocking around, she sat up in her bed, grabbing her sig from under her pillow, she went out from her room to find out what the commotion was. Lowering her weapon, she sighed. "Ohh - I almost shot you!" she said, looking at John who appeared to be trying to make a pot of coffee that morning.

"And you just ruined the surprise of me trying to make you breakfast in bed," John replied as he looked at her innocently.

She simply stared at him confused before shaking her head clear. "Seriously?" she asked, unsure. Tony had been teasing her since she returned - much to their usual behaviour - about her attraction to the man although he expressed concern over her attachment to the man that might be only from their time together. Something a kin to Stockholm Syndrome even if he wasn't her captor but her fellow captive.

"Well, not exactly 'in bed'..." John shrugged and pointed to the table that he had set. So far there was bread and some hard boiled eggs on there. "I would have knocked on your door, softly, and tell you that breakfast was ready."

Standing there like an idiot, holding her gun in her hand, it took her a moment before she got her bearings. "Oh. Thank you John. Um, let me put this away," she smiled weakly as she held up the gun. Returning to her room, she locked the weapon in her safe and went to her bathroom to splash her face with some cold water in hopes that it might help.

Ziva made her way back out to the kitchen with a smile but clearly still out of it. "Sorry. I didn't sleep very well," she said quietly. "Do you want me to help you with anything?"

"Plates please," John sighed as he brought the empty mugs over to the table. "And I know you haven't been sleeping well. That's why I wanted to let you sleep some more today."

"Am I that bad?" she asked as she reached up to get the plates from her cabinet as well as glasses for coffee and juice. "I'm so sorry if I've disturbed your own rest."

"You're not that bad," John shook his head. "And you're not disturbing anything, I can do with little sleep." He added and then looked at her. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

She nodded quietly as she considered it. "I can't. Not yet at least. I don't know. I don't know if you really want to know what my nightmares are of on some nights..."

"I can think of a few things," he then smiled warmly. "It's okay, if you want to talk about it, you will, I'm just saying, I'm a good listener." Truth be told, he had some recurring nightmares about their ordeal as well. He just hid it better, like he always had.

Ziva didn't say anything as she continued to set the table for them. "How is your therapy going? Have you heard anything from the Air Force about after you're - better?" she asked, trying to change the subject slightly.

"Well, my CO definitely thinks that I've been suspended long enough," John said as he got the cutlery out of the drawers. "He also made sure that the Air Force made a hefty donation to NCIS for everything."

"So - you're going to be going back to Colorado?" she questioned curiously and with concern. The thought made her feel sick and she fought against the realization that she simply did not want him to leave yet, or simply that far.

"Probably not," he replied as he placed the forks and knives on the table. "We disagree on a lot of things and I'm tired of dancing to their tune."

She had been holding the plates still as she stood at the table. Wanting to let out a sigh of relief, she tried to hide it as much as she could. "Oh, well, that's good, right?" she asked, avoiding looking at him right away.

"Maybe, I dunno. Flying is what I wanted to do ever since I was a kid, so I'm still thinking about it. It's hard to change careers when you're older." John replied and took the plates out of her hands. He had noticed the subtle changes on her face as he answered her questions and he knew he had to keep this up; trying to shut her out. Don't say too much and don't let her get her hopes up. Sure, Ziva was a great woman, funny even, but he was an ass and she could find someone better. "Maybe I should let the general tell me what this 'great gig' is and then decide."

"I see," she said softly. "You haven't contacted your family since all this, have you? Or your friends? They are welcome to visit while you are here you know."

"It's complicated," John said as he managed to bring the coffee pot to the table. "I'll call them next week or some other time." He then shrugged with a smile on his face. "Besides, my brother should have heard what happened by now, thanks to our Dr. Beckett, and he hasn't called me either."

"What about becoming an agent? Providing that they clear you on the psych exams and a few courses at FLETC, I think you would make a fine agent," she suggested.

"No offence, but you don't have planes and helicopters," he pointed out, and despite that, he wouldn't even consider it. He had a problem with authority, he certainly didn't want to become it.

"The Navy does," she replied. "I happen to know that there have been a number of cases that involved the team requiring time on them. We do have to get out to ships somehow during investigations after all. We've investigated Navy pilots all the time so I believe that your experience would be a great asset."

"I'll think about it, I think I'll just see what the General has to say first." John responded. "Let's have breakfast now." He poured the coffee in the mugs and took a slice of bread and an egg. "Will you allow me to cook for you tonight?" Sure, his leg was still in a cast, but he could probably stand up long enough to take a peek in the pans on the stove, as his concussion was gone now and his balance had returned. "If not, I'd like …" cursing himself, he was enabling her, he was and he shouldn't. "... to take you out to dinner." He then quickly added; "Because I should do something back, you didn't have to offer me to stay here, and you did."

She looked up in surprise from putting sugar in her cup and nearly dropped the sugar bowl. "What? Um, if you want. You really don't have to do anything for me," she replied. "But I would like that."

"Me cooking for you or take you out to dinner?"

"Both?" Ziva smiled up at him, blinking her eyes innocently.

He rolled his eyes at her and started to peel the shell off the egg to plaster it all over his bread. "When you've decided, let me know," he chuckled.

Making her way over to his side, she leaned against the table and let out a breath. "How about - you surprise me with whatever you wish. I won't complain and am sure that I will enjoy it in either regard."

"Yeah see? That's not working." John shook his head. "I'll end up taking you to Wendy's or a Steakhouse."

"And they each have very delicious chicken salads," she smiled.

"Oh you're impossible." He chuckled as he took a bite out of his egg sandwich. "Alright, how about I make a great pasta dish tonight? I won't add any beef or minced meat. Salmon is okay, right?"

"Sounds great," Ziva replied. She looked at him for a long moment before moving away and back to her seat and work on her own breakfast. "Do you have any plans for today?" she asked curiously.

"Folding laundry?" John shrugged.

"I was thinking of going shopping. Interested in coming with me? If just to get out for something other than appointments?"

"Sure, I'll need to get groceries anyway." He nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "And I'd like to get some jeans. I'm a little sick of the tracking pants..." he tugged on his pants and sighed. "Never mind, until I'm out of this cast..."

"What about shorts? At least for around the apartment?" she suggested. "I would think they'd be more comfortable to lounge in."

"Shorts?" He chuckled. "Sure, why not."

Ziva smiled as she went back to eating her breakfast. When she was done, she stood to start cleaning up. "You can leave everything. If you need help getting ready, let me know. It doesn't take me long to get ready so whenever you are..."

"If you hear something crashing then come and find me," John nodded and after stuffing his sandwich in his mouth, he went to Ziva's guest room where his clothes lived. In all fairness, he didn't like to go out _that much_ because people were idiots to people in a wheelchair, even if only temporary. He had went out when Ziva was working to get the groceries she wanted him to buy and people's bags kept hitting him in the head in the supermarket or they'd kick against the chair or fake trip over him. It wasn't very thoughtful.

On top of that, he was incredibly skinny but had started to put a little weight back on. It was frustrating that there was still a long way to go until he was back to his regular self; and even then, he wondered if he'd be ever good enough for the Air Force again. His first goal was to lose the cast and make sure he would be able to walk again and then go to a gym.

Ziva quickly washed everything - as there wasn't much other than the plates, cups and pot from the eggs. After she showered and changed, she waited for John. She hoped that he would open up more to her and was pleased that he offered dinner with her - as payment of sorts for her hospitality, but it was a small step that she was willing to accept.

Grabbing her bag, she tossed a couple bottles of water for them in it before going to check on him. Knocking on his door, she waited for a moment before speaking. "Are you alright?" she called.

She had seen him in his shorts before, heck in the beginning he needed a lot of help doing things (so why didn't she come in?) and he was doing alright until he had lost his balance and was currently leaning against a wall with a clean set of pants in his hands, catching his breath. Standing up and trying to get dressed hadn't been one of the brightest ideas.

He was fortunate that the room wasn't that big, so when he figured out that it took only two or three hops for him to be able to let himself fall on to the bed, roll over and put his pants on, he did just that. "Yep, fine," was his answer as he groaned when the vibration of falling onto the bed and the speed of it hurt. _Note to self,_ he thought, _Play it safe before you break yourself, listen to the therapist for once._ "Out in a minute!"

"Okay," she replied with concern in her voice. "I'll be in the living room waiting," Ziva added before leaving the door.

Five minutes later, he had his pants on, a clean shirt and managed to get his socks on as well. He shoved his good foot into the slipper that had come with them from the hospital and sighed. He wanted to be able to walk freely, in the clothes he wanted to wear, the shoes he wanted and not feel as if he was living someone else's life. Maybe he was.

He rolled his wheelchair out of the door and towards the living room. "Done."

Ziva smiled over at him, her eyes looking him over. "Do you wish me to bring your crutches? That way you can get a little work out in at the same time? I promise not to tell your physical therapist," she commented with a slight grin.

He smiled widely. "I'd do anything for those crutches!"

"Anything?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Apart from calling any family or friends," John pointed out.

"Damn," she pouted with exaggeration. "Well - how about some new linens? Something a bit more masculine for your room? I doubt you really enjoy pinks and florals."

"If you want me to get them for you, sure, it's your house, your guest room." He nodded. "To me, it's a bed."

"And as long as you are here, it's _your_ room," she sighed. "Why must you be so difficult? You are nearly as bad as my partner at work!"

"I'm not being difficult," he sighed. "This is your house. Ahh... it's bad enough that I'm here intruding on your life, buying linens to make the room more manly doesn't really sit right with me. What will happen to the linen when I leave?"

Ziva shrugged as she got his crutches for him. "Storage. Or you can take them with you I suppose." She didn't have the courage to say that she didn't want him to leave at all, even if they were only to be roommates and friends. She knew very well it was ridiculous to allow herself to feel as such an attachment to him but it was stronger than she could fight.

"If it makes you happy, we'll get the linens." John happily took his crutches and got out of the chair. "Freedom!" he grinned.

She laughed as she tried to work around him and held the door open. "We will have to take advantage of the day as much as we can then. Is there anywhere you would like to go? Sightseeing or something?"

"Nah, shopping and groceries. Stick with the original plan, I don't think I can be on these things for longer than an hour or two, maybe three if we take breaks."

"I don't know. I'm sure that there are places that offer wheelchairs for those who need it. Between work and - everything else, I sort of need to just get out and do something. What about a baseball game? There were some of the guys at the office that mentioned one of the professional minor league teams that are in Virginia. Would you go to a game with me?"

"If _you_ want to do something fun, then we should do something that you'd like," John said as he hopped to the elevator. "I didn't think you'd like baseball." _I know I don't_ , he added in thought.

She shrugged. "It was something my father showed me," she replied. "I enjoy baseball very much. I just don't get to go to games or watch it on television often."

He smiled at her as the doors of the elevator opened. "Then let's go and watch a game."


	4. Chapter 4

Having spent the morning doing a number of errands and much needed shopping, reserving the groceries for later in the evening when they would be going back to the apartment, it was a nice day. As the baseball game stretched into the seventh inning and the home team up by one run, Ziva and John sat out in the end of the seats where it wasn't as crowded and they could easily see if anyone were to approach them with enough time to prepare themselves. Of course that was _after_ they decided to move somewhere else when a spoiled kid behind their previous seats decided to spill his father's beer over the back of Ziva's shirt accidentally.

The kid's father was apologetic and even went as far as buying her a new t-shirt at the souvenir stand for her to change into but the smell of the beer was not leaving her as they sat in the bright sun. "I wonder if the child would be missed if I were to choke him," she murmured to John as she eyed the father having difficulty controlling the kid.

"I wouldn't even think of drinking a beer with a kid around me." John replied, "Don't want the kid to take advantage of me like that brat is obviously doing to his father."

Ziva really seemed to enjoy the game despite the beer. He knew enough about baseball to follow what was going on, he just liked seeing a big smile on her face whenever someone made a home run. She looked so pretty when she smiled, and he loved the way the sun was reflecting on her hair. _Crap_.

After the Tides won, she glanced at her watch and winced. "We should start heading back. The game ran longer than I thought it would," she said. "Do you need a hand? I would like to swing by the office on the way home just to see if there is anything left for me."

"I'll be right behind you," John said as he gathered his crutches from the floor, sticky with beer and what looked like blood but he was sure it was ketchup and got up.

She walked a few steps ahead but slow enough that she was never far nor hovering. "You know, all I can think about now is a nice long hot bath when we get back," she smiled in a daze.

"Good, then I can fiddle around in the kitchen for dinner." John chuckled. "But you know, I've heard some of my female co-workers say that beer is good for the hair, so maybe it'll be even prettier once you rinse it out." He then mentally kicked himself. Stop.

Ziva looked back at him, taking him in before smiling and walking again. "You are welcome to come up and see the office when we get to NCIS if you would like. Again simply for a change of scenery in case we are unable to get out again like this for awhile."

"It's Saturday, you shouldn't think about work. I'm sure it can wait until Monday." John said as he focused on the steps, he had felt the strain in his arms before the game and right now it felt as if his arms were made out of rubber.

"I just want to see if they got any information about the group that held us," she replied. "Don't you want to see those bastards dealt with?"

"Wouldn't your colleagues share the information with you?" John retorted, understanding her frustration pretty well, he just didn't share the emotion.

Ziva frowned and was silent for the rest of the walk until they reached her car. Once they were inside and buckled in, she looked at him before turning the engine on. "They would not tell me right away if they believe it would be in my best interest. Which is why I wanted to stop there when they do not anticipate my presence. It has been extremely irritating as it feels as if they are walking on shells around me," she let out.

"I can understand their point of view, and also yours. They want to protect you, but you don't need to be protected because you can do it yourself," he answered after a moment of thought. "But are you truly ready to read the intel they have on these guys?"

"Are you ever going to let your friends know where you are? Or are you going to continue on trying to make yourself as invisible as you can get without being actually dead?" she asked in turn, a look of genuine concern and worry for the man. "You saved my life and I can never repay that. But you do not give yourself enough credit to how much you are valued by those around you."

"I said I would, in a week or two," John replied and shook his head. He was quiet for some time and reached for the ignition key to turn off the engine. "The reason why I was at the bank that day, was not only to make sure that my ex-wife got her money, but also to leave my will in my safety deposit box. That day, after all the crappy months, I decided to end it all. That's why I volunteered as a hostage. I never expected to come out of it alive. I had stopped living long before all of this. But then there was you, stubborn you, basically forcing myself to live again even after all the crap we've gone through in the four months we were at their mercy. And I'm doing it, sort of. But I'm not ready to face my friends. Not while I'm... not myself." He grabbed one of the water bottles in Ziva's purse and drank from it. "Happy now?"

She looked at him and sighed. "I said nothing about you drinking," she commented. "You remind me of when I left the Mossad to become a full time NCIS agent. It was not easy, especially when I realized that my father intended to send me on a suicidal mission. Luckily Gibbs and Vance managed to get me out of there in time. Just - there is more for you that you may not realize yet. I don't know what the situation was between you and your wife, or the details in the falling out the Air Force was having with you then, but that did not mean the end."

"Oh, there's plenty more." John nodded, taking another sip from the bottle. "But anyway, that was then, I was slightly disappointed when you and your team came for me, but I'm here. I'm not complaining, but that wasn't the point. My question was if you're truly ready to deal with the information your co-workers may have and to see their progress? Do you think it would help you in any way?"

"It would help me that I get the chance to kill them with paperclips many times over," Ziva growled. "And then kick and castrate the bastards before handing them over to Gibbs. I think that if I didn't just go to my GYN the week before for my birth control shot, I'd have other issues aside from everything else."

He sighed. "I understand, I truly understand your frustrations and hell, even I want to shoot them for what they did to you, but do you really think you're in the right shape to go off on your own? No, you're not. We can go and have a look at the files, but you'll have to promise me you won't do anything without Gibbs," he insisted. "I don't want you to get hurt and I don't want them to kill you just because you're still off your game."

"I wouldn't go off on my own like this," she said, shaking her head. "I would want the team there to have my back but I also would like to live as I had today. I just want to be happy and not afraid of every damn thing. I don't want to go every night with nightmares knowing those - people - are out there free."

"Your apartment building is new, has state of the art security and you have an alarm system in your house, you shouldn't be afraid. They won't get in that easily, especially during the night. On top of that, I'm still in your house and I sleep for maybe two or three hours, I spend the rest lying awake, so if I hear anything I can just start yelling and wake you up." John grinned. "Besides, there are FBI agents tailing us, haven't you noticed? They're there to keep you safe, and to give you the time to get better, to stop being afraid all the time. At night, there's an unmarked car in front and the back of your building."

Ziva sat back in her seat with a growl. Glancing up into the rear view mirror she glared at the sedan parked a distance back. "I know and Gibbs refuses to have Fornell call them off. I just feel so - conflicted. I do not know anymore."

"Alright, you still want to go to your office?" He asked as he put the cap back on the water bottle and looked at her.

"What do you want to do? And don't give me nonsense. Just answer that. What do you want?" she asked, looking back at him seriously.

"Let _them_ take care of this, if they're withholding information on you then it's probably because they think it's for your own good. I know it's hard to sit on your hands and do nothing, and if I had been more mobile I would have suggested we'd go out camping in Virginia but there's nothing much I can do for you either." John answered her truthfully. "If we want these guys to be caught and brought down, we should let other people handle it because you... we both, are too much emotionally involved in this and it could screw everything up."

She smiled softly. "Camping does sound nice too." Sighing, she looked out the window. "You're right. I know you are right. Okay - so we don't go back to the office. They have been trying to get me to take more time off so how about I call in for the week. I know it would be difficult for you but we can try to - improvise. Camp in the living room?"

He chuckled. "We could, but that's not really taking you out somewhere, is it?" John thought for a second and sighed. "I could... I could call my brother and ask if we could use the family cabin lodge in Virginia, it's even floored, there's a good path outside and it's out, on private land and there's wildlife and everything." John knew she'd probably say 'yes', if only if it would have him talk to his brother on the phone. The lodge was big enough for the both of them to have space and not see each other, about four or five bedrooms and the last time he was there was years ago. But he knew that his brother had kept it after their father had passed. "It's a safe place."

Ziva looked at him and debated it. "I do not want to if you truly do not wish to speak to your brother," she said slowly. "However if you truly wish to go - then I will be willing."

"Or we could go to a crowded resort or something," John shrugged, knowing full well that she'd say 'no', because he didn't like crowds at this point either and he believed that mentally, she was in a worse place than he was.

"No!" she exclaimed. Truth be told, she was feeling some anxiety about having to go to the market still.

"See? I knew you were going to say that," he nodded as he fumbled his cellphone out of his pocket. "Because I would have refused anyway, too many variables."

"The living room would be a safer option," Ziva shared. "At least we know where there are weapons around."

"Gun rack in the lodge for shooting wild dogs and coyotes," John retorted, she had been talking about feeling cooped up, or ignored at work and he was offering her another safe haven even if it meant that he had to do something he wouldn't like.

"Are _you_ ready to speak to your brother like that?" she asked.

"The conversation will be short," John nodded, knowing his brother and knowing the family doctor, Dr. Beckett, Dave would have known all about what medically happened to him before anyone else.

She eventually nodded her consent. "Okay. You can call on the way to the market that way while we are there, we can get the things we will need to bring before we go back to the apartment. I need a shower before we travel anywhere else."

"I'm still cooking you the pasta tonight, and I think it's better to leave in the morning." John nodded as Ziva started the car again.

It didn't take long to do what they need to before they got back. She barely dumped the bags on the kitchen counter before shouting out to John that she would put them away as soon as she was done showering. Never before had she appreciated the luxury of a good hot shower than she did that evening. Pulling on her favorite pair of shorts and a camisole top for comfort, she shuffled her way out of her room with a pleased smile on her face.

John was sitting on the counter next to the stove, keeping an eye on things cooking. It was a weird perspective but his good leg had started to give out on him due to the strain he had put on it during the day. His arms were sore too and he knew that he was going to be even more sore in the morning, but it was worth it. The sooner he was able to use the crutches to their full potential, the sooner he was going to back on his feet once the cast would come off.

He looked at Ziva when she entered the kitchen. "You look refreshed," he noted with a smile.

"Very," she almost purred. "It feels so wonderful to be _clean_ , without any odor of stale beer all over. How goes dinner?"

"Almost done," John answered as he stirred in the sauce. He had made the sauce with the white wine they had bought earlier and combined with the salmon, he knew that the taste of it was going to be amazing. He had already set the table and poured them a glass of that same white wine. He had quickly whipped up garlic butter which was on the table with some French bread. He'd rather have Italian bread but he didn't feel like carving into that one as it would take some effort right now.

"Smells good," she replied as she made her way over to look it over herself. "How did the conversation go?"

John shrugged. "As expected. Dr. Beckett told Dave what had happened so I didn't have to tell him. He actually sounded annoyed when I called and only gladly told me that the key to the lodge was buried underneath dad's favorite tree near it before he hung up on me."

"Wow. He really is that much of an ass," she said as she pulled off a piece of bread to munch on. "My father - despite our differences - at least called after he heard that I was free to see if I was okay."

"Dave's very much like my father and happily forgets about me because to him it looks like I bailed on the family business when I joined the Air Force after studying history at Stanford instead of law."

"I'm sure there are other lodges elsewhere that we could rent. Of course it might take longer to make reservations and such," she suggested.

"Nah, I gladly dealt with him so we could save money on renting stuff," John nodded and slowly got off the counter, making sure that he was steady on his feet again before he checked on the pasta. "Uhh... could you drain the pasta for me?"

Ziva smiled as she made her way over to him after pulling out the colander. "Very well. Is there anything else that you need me to do?"

He turned off the gas and smiled. "Yep, bring those pans to the table please."

She looked at him and shook her head. "Get your wheelchair and do it yourself," she joked as she brought the pans over to the table. She didn't mind doing this, knowing that John had no other way of bringing scalding hot pans over. Ziva had to admit, the sauce smelled _great_ and she was quite famished; despite them both pigging out on hot dogs and chips during the game.

She and John both had received a diet from the doctor's office to get them strengthened up again without them getting overweight. However, they had felt that they were absolutely allowed to treat themselves on some unauthorized junk food.

Ziva looked at John who was making his way over to the table, slightly unstable and the look on his face told her that he was slightly in pain. He had over-exerted himself today, and as much as she felt sorry for him, she also had wanted to teach him a lesson that he couldn't rush his recovery. John in turn, had taught her the same lesson that day by rationalizing her team's attitude and her work. They were a perfect fit for each other, why didn't he see that?


	5. Chapter 5

All of John's attentions, such as going to the game with her, cooking for her and even going outside of his own comfort zone and call his brother to ask if he could use the cabin - who has cabins in the woods on private land these days anyway? - were meant out of friendship, at least that's the message she received from him, but it was also frustrating as it seemed as if it was coming from another place than friendship and he was drawing her into his world one minute, and pushing her away the next.

"Do you need anything else?" Ziva asked as she looked at the fully stocked table, wincing at the expensive bottle of wine John had chosen to obviously cook with. Hadn't it been for John paying for the groceries, she would have had a hard time denying him it. _You'd better be a fantastic wine_ , she told the bottle in thought.

"Nope, sit down, eat!" John slowly sat down and put his crutches on the floor.

She took the glass of wine he had waiting at her usual seat and sipped it slowly. Nodding her approval she helped spoon out their meal and cut the bread before sitting down to her own supper. Ziva ate quietly for a few minutes, savoring each bite. "This is good," she said with a mouthful. "Really good!"

"Thanks," he replied as he took another bite of his pasta. "That almost sounds as if you didn't have faith in me cooking." he chuckled.

"No - nothing like that," she said with a grin. "More like unsure of it."

"Because I'm a guy?" John teased. "Well, guess what? I can fix my own clothes like a pro and even briefly took up knitting when I was in Afghanistan to kill the boredom when I had made too many flight hours," he continued. "How briefly, you ask? Two rows before it drove me crazy."

"No, not because you are a guy. Tony cooks very well and McGee is surprisingly skilled at minor repairs such as sewing. He just won't admit to it," she replied. "I think it is very - admirable that you are so - domesticated."

John chuckled and shook his head. "Can't live off take outs."

"Perhaps. The last time I really did any cooking was years ago. I used to host team dinners but they just sort of stopped happening."

"Why?" John asked her as he took a sip of his wine. "You of all people keep telling me that it's important to have friends and family around you."

Ziva shrugged a shoulder as she stared at her plate. "I do not know. It just stopped happening. Of course after Director Shepard died, a lot of things changed for the team. Vance broke us up and it was just one of those things that just never picked up again. I do things with Abby now and then, when we aren't involved heavily in a case. Just not often."

"That's a shame, the way you're talking about them all the time makes me think you really like them." John took another bite of his pasta and had a mouth full of salmon instead of pasta. He chuckled as he managed to get it down without too much of an effort.

"I do," she insisted. "It just has been difficult to get back into that _zone_ since coming back. It is like _something_ changed. I trust them, I do. I know I am safe around them but I feel as if some connection was lost. It is difficult to explain."

"No, I understand," John said, slowly nodding. "I had a great team in Afghanistan the first time around, we had worked together for years, and it all kinda fell apart when we returned. They all moved on, starting to work for the FBI or other government agencies and I signed up for a second tour, so my 'friends', such as Teyla, Ronon, Rodney and Lorne, are just far away acquaintances now and we exchange emails and such but that's it." He then shrugged. "Of course, the fact that everyone but me thinks that I screwed up in the sandbox doesn't help much either."

"Is that what you truly believe?" she asked. "Have you tried to reconnect with them at all or have you been waiting for them to come to you?"

"Well, there was an email from Lorne a couple of days ago, asking if I was alright as he had watched me as I had to go to the mall to get new shaving cream," John shrugged. "An email, instead of getting out of his car and... never mind." He made sure he had enough pasta on his fork and in his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk for at least a minute. The deterioration of his friendships was obviously his own fault, he thought as he chewed on his pasta.

"I kinda started to push them away a couple of months before the bank, even further than where we had drifted. I do that, you know, push people away. Especially when I have the feeling that I'm unable to keep up, or when it seems like the world's out to get me." He regretted those words immediately. He had never really told anyone about why he did certain things, but for some reason it felt good. John took another sip of his wine. "I'm not really a people person anyway, not anymore." He then drowned his glass and re-filled it. "I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this."

"Because we are two people of the same pod?" Ziva suggested. "Your friends need to learn to push back, to learn to fight against your self sabotage. Abby does that. No matter how much I wished to be alone, she insisted on coming over for her girls' nights. It is what I have been doing with you as well..." she admitted slowly with clear reluctance.

"Oh, I've noticed,' John nodded. "And I don't like it but I like entertaining you," he shrugged. "Besides, it helps you, too."

"You do not like my attempts to be friends with you?" she questioned, setting her fork down. "Because despite your clear reluctance to accept any support or offers of _kindness_ there was something that I could never put my finger on, even in that basement, that drew my attention to you. Forgive me for trying to be anything for you."

Upset, Ziva stood, pushing her plate back on the table and walked out. Closing the door to her room once she reached it, she let out a shaking breath, wishing she could take back the last few minutes. She knew she was a fool to try to connect, as her NCIS psychologist suggest strongly, to someone. The mistake in that was that she tried with someone equally, if not more, broken than she was.

"I didn't mean it..." he started and blinked at the sound of Ziva's door closing. "Like that..." he added as he sighed and decided to clean up the mess he made in the kitchen and the dishes. "Way to go, John." He told himself out loud as he picked up his crutches and went to get the wheelchair first, if only to make it easier for himself to clean everything up without getting covered in it.

John didn't quite knew what to do, but Ziva's closed door said enough. He had made the mistake a few times in the past with other women - especially Nancy - to try to get access to the room to apologize and had learned the hard way that it was better to let them come out on their own. Especially as Ziva kept weapons in her bedroom. They obviously had some kind of misunderstanding.

After he had managed to rinse the plates and empty the pans of its remains without getting too much water dumped over himself and put it all in the dishwasher, he decided to take his chances anyway with trying to talk to Ziva, because she was unlike any other woman he had met. John parked his chair in front of her bedroom door and knocked on it. "Ziva, I didn't mean it like that."

She was quiet for a long moment as she laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She considered not responding but for what she learned of the man and his past, it would make her no different from those he previously pushed away. Ziva opened her door slowly, leaning on the jam but did not look at him. Her eyes were fixated on a spot on the floor when she asked, "How did you mean it then?"

"Like... today. Going out with you and having fun... until the beer shower and the ketchup on the handles of the crutches. Like... tomorrow and the day after and the day after that... If it wasn't for me wanting to indulge you in your trips and accompany you, I wouldn't have gotten out myself, but I like doing things for you. Like the cooking. Or even folding the laundry." He sighed. "No, that didn't sound right either. It sounded a lot better in my head. Point is, you _are_ my friend and I want to be yours."

"John, as much as I appreciate that, I wish to see you be able to _indulge_ in your own interests as well. I do not just wish for you to go out to appease me. I would like to see you to want to go and do something. I would go with you, take you wherever you would like - even if it is something that I may not be wholly interested in myself."

"I like hiking, skiing... mountain climbing and flying..." he pointed to the wheelchair. "Currently impossible." He then shrugged. "I could take up knitting again but you'll end up with a scarf with holes in them."

She slowly smiled. "I have more than enough scarves of my own that I do not wear but thank you. If you wish to take a trip to one of the hobby shops, I am sure we could find something for you to entertain yourself with when you are by yourself."

"Nah, I'm good." he shook his head, already seeing himself making Christmas cards or whatever and that scared the shit out of him. "Are we?"

Ziva looked up at him and parted her lips as if to say something before changing her mind. Smiling softly, she nodded. "We are."

He smiled in return. "Good, oh, I've already loaded up the dishwasher so you don't have to worry about that." he said as he backed up slowly. "And I'm sorry for telling you stuff about me today."

"Don't be. I am sure that I said more than you would have liked to hear about me already so consider it retribution," she replied. "Do you still wish to go away this weekend or not?"

"Of course," John answered. "Do you? I mean, we bought all that stuff, would be a shame to let it go to waste, besides, I've been an ass, you deserve a nice weekend away."

"I would love to get away as well. We should probably begin packing now before it gets too late. You mentioned you wanted an early start on the road, yes?"

"I do, but you can sleep in if you want, we did a lot today." He replied, and knew he was going to be sore in the morning. "I'll most likely be very slow tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Aren't you slow every day?" she teased.

"Watch it, I can still perform a mean tackle." He stuck out his tongue to her.

"I doubt that considering I can actually run," she grinned.

"Yeah... there's that, but what if I caught you off guard?"

Ziva looked at him thoughtfully. "Why would you wish to catch me off guard?"

He shrugged. "Probably not, because you're jumpy and it'd made you feel bad and whatnot." John opened the door to Ziva's guest room. "Make sure you pack a few warm things, the cabin has plenty of blankets but it's fun to sit outside with a campfire."

"Good to know," she smiled as she watched him roll into his room. "Will there be space enough for you to use your wheelchair so that you don't over do yourself?"

"Yeah, my father's parents used to use the cabin too and granddad was in a wheelchair so everything... well most areas are adjusted."

"Just checking," Ziva said before going back in her room to get her things together, but left the door open in case he might want to find her to talk or something. She doubted that he would but she also didn't want to try shutting him out in that manner as well.

"And if not, I could just crawl." John laughed as he emptied his duffel-bag on the bed and checked the clothes that were in them. He left the jeans aside and stuffed his some of his shirts, underwear, shorts and his jogging pants in it and he was done. Apart from his toothbrush and his razor.

"I do not find that funny!" she called back as she stared into her closet, trying to decide what to bring.

"Why not? Afraid that I might tackle you unexpectedly?" He grinned as he rolled towards the door and looked out of the room. _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought.

"No. I am not afraid of you. Just what you might _do_ ," she said as she grabbed two sweater sets and made her way to the door to look over at him. "Your mind is very evil when it wishes to be. If you actually were to spend time with the guys on my team, then I would truly be afraid."

"Well, truthfully, I can't do much at the moment, so..." he shrugged. "Besides, you haven't seen me drunk yet, nor will you ever see me drunk, but I'm way worse when I'm drunk than when I'm hyper, which I am now."

Ziva raised an eyebrow as she eyed him. "I imagine you being a very - friendly - drunk," she smiled. "Nothing wrong with that."

"When I'm drunk the emergency break in my head shuts down and I end up over sharing things, which is bad." He shook his head. "And I so shouldn't have told you that."

Her smile grew into a grin as she thought about how she could use that information to her advantage so that she might learn more of him and perhaps persuade him to trust her more. "Then it is settled. We will make a stop at the liquor store on the way to the cabin. I think some Jose Cuervo and DVDs are in order. There is the drinking game that the team played when watching old television shows. It is rather fun."

"Uh... crap... uhm... what are you like when you're drunk?"

"Do you truly wish to know?" she questioned as she folded her clothes into her bag.

"It's only fair."

"I have been told that I get - happy," she said with as straight of a face as she could make.

"Nothing wrong with that, you have a beautiful smile." He immediately reversed his chair into his room and hit himself on the head with his hand. _Idiot, you're supposed to keep her away from you_ , he told himself. _This is not right, wrong behavior, you used too much alcohol in that sauce of yours and it didn't all evaporate and you're currently a lightweight, remember?_ "Coffee?" He asked as he rolled into the kitchen to make a pot. This had to stop, now.

Ziva looked up at him blushing slightly before he disappeared. When he came back out and asked if she wanted coffee, she simply shrugged. "No thank you but I will have some tea," she replied.

John switched on the water kettle and started to make coffee. For some reason, he no longer could keep his thoughts to himself, especially not today and he had to find that self control again.

She thought about what had just happened before she dropped her packing and quietly made her way back into the kitchen. Ziva could see how he appeared conflicted with himself as he stared at the coffee pot that slowly started to brew the dark drink. Pulling herself up onto the island stool, she folded her hands on top and looked at him. "I think there may be some things that we should discuss," she said softly. Best deal with that elephant in the room instead of ignoring it as they had been for the previous month and more of living together.

 _Oh, there she goes, you see John? You went too far and she wants you out now that you can sort of make your own way around an apartment. She's going to make it her choice instead of yours._ "I'm sorry about the way I have been behaving today and I promise to look for a place when we're back from the cabin." John said as he pulled the coffee and tea mugs closer to him so he could fill them up once the coffee was done.

Ziva's mouth fell open in shock as she shook her head clear. "What are you talking about? Do you think that I was going to ask you to leave?" she questioned.

"Well yeah, I decided to listen to that stupid shrink and experiment with my self control today and see what happens. I probably should have warned you first. I haven't been reeling myself in as I usually do and you probably find that weird or scary and realize that I'm unstable to be around with and regret that you offered your room to me for at least the duration of me not having a house or until I'm able to walk again," he responded. "That's okay, it's my own fault."

"No John. I wasn't going to ask you to leave at all," she said. "I honestly do not know how to deal with everything if you were to leave. I wanted to talk about something else. About us..."

John blinked and looked at her. "Oh...Uhm... okay?" He didn't know what to respond to _that_.

She took a deep breath as she looked down at her hands. "Those small comments, like when you referred to my smile," she started slowly. "Do they come from anywhere else other than a friend?"

He poured the hot water into her mug and tossed in a tea bag before managing to put the tea in front of her and then turned back to his mug to fill it up with coffee. John took the time to think. "I can't say 'no' to that and I wish I could..." Especially after hearing her boyfriend horror stories when they were in the basement together.

She nodded slowly. "Okay...For that honesty, you should know that much suggestions for spending time out - was from other interests as well. I had mentioned a draw to you, hadn't I?"

John turned his wheelchair around so he was facing her, then firmly grasping his coffee mug. "I had the same but I was just trying to get you out so you'd be safe, and you refused..." he paused for a moment and then took a sip of the too hot coffee. "I've been trying to ignore it. Mostly because it's... weird. We spent 4 months locked up together, we should be trying to get better without each other, but I like _this_ with you. But also, remember all those stories you told me about Malachai, Michael and your other ex-boyfriends? I recognized so much about myself in them that..."

John sighed and stared deeply into his coffee mug, hoping that he could fall into it and drown. He had _never_ been able to speak his mind about things the right way and Nancy had always lost patience with him when he tried. Ziva appeared to be actually listening. "I just don't want to end up hurting you," he muttered.

"John? How much of your relationship problems involve your own sabotage?" she asked. "I like this too, no matter how odd it may seem. But perhaps - we could try to get over our own fears together. I am willing to try if you are."

"I don't want to hurt you, Ziva, and I probably will-" he caught the look she was giving him. "Okay, you're a big girl, you can take care of yourself," he nodded. "Let's try."

She gave him a pleased smile before letting out the breath she'd been holding. "Great. So - the next question I have... What do we do _now_?" she grinned.

"Finish our coffee and tea and go to our rooms to sleep?" John suggested. "We have an entire week to talk about things."

"Or more. Remember they have been trying to get me to take more time off," she pointed out.

"Ah, yes. Well, we'll see." He smiled as he took a sip of his coffee.

Ziva picked up her tea and nodded. "Alright well I'm going to take this into my room while I finish packing before turning in. We will get up bright and early so that we can get on the road. Breakfast on the way there?"

"Yes!" John said. "I've been craving a Turkey sub from Subway for weeks now and we're passing one on the way!"

"I doubt they will be open so early," she laughed. "But if they are, we will stop."

He woke up the next morning feeling sore all over. His arms, his good leg and his back were killing him. John had to admit, he had slept well despite the conversation he and Ziva had had the night before, and he just hoped things wouldn't become awkward between them.

Groaning, he managed to get out of bed somehow, with the cast around his leg weighing a ton all of a sudden and made his way over to the shower. He needed a hot shower, coffee and maybe some Tylenol.

He was fortunate enough that he could pretty much cover his cast in bin-liners and taping them together with duct tape, and with a little bit of aerobics, he could sit down on the plastic chair in the shower and keep his plastered leg out of the water. It had been a while since he had a proper shower, he often just used a washing cloth and washed himself but he really needed to heat up his body to function properly.

When the alarm went off, Ziva could not help but to groan. It was early. Far earlier than she would have liked to awaken on her day off but when she remembered that she would be spending the weekend away with John, she smiled.

After she dragged herself out of bed and dressed, she started a pot of coffee for them as she began sorting through the last minute things that they would be bringing. While John was in his shower, she began to bring the bags that were set out down to the car and making a list of other things they would need to still purchase.

With two large carafes full of fresh hot coffee for the road, she made his cup for him and set it on the counter after she heard the shower water turn off. Ziva sat and waited in the comfortable silence, wondering how things would progress for them.

John felt refreshed when he was done with his shower, even though drying himself off was still a bit tricky as he really didn't want to end up with a wet ass in his wheelchair. He got into a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt issued by the Air Force, he just couldn't help that they were extremely comfortable - although it still didn't fit properly - and put his socks on.

Ten minutes later he emerged victoriously from Ziva's guest room and rolled into the kitchen. "Good morning," he smiled.

Ziva looked up from her mug and newspaper with an equally bright smile. "Morning. Sleep well?" she asked as her eyes flickered over him.

"Like a log," he replied as he saw his mug of coffee. "You?" he immediately took a sip of it, the shower had woken him up, but coffee was the best way to start the day.

"Very well. Almost as if some weight was lifted," she replied. "I have most of the stuff in the car already, including some food stuff. We just need to get your chair, crutches, and bag in and we're set from here. The market would be a good idea as well when we get there."

John nodded. "There's a Walmart and a Farmer's Market close to the exit road to the cabin in Virginia, I think we should do the rest of the shopping there, the Farmer's Market has some of the best steaks of Virginia for a decent price." he grinned and took another sip of his coffee. "And chicken, of course."

Ziva chuckled as she started cleaning up. "Sounds like a plan. Can I go in your room for the crutches and bag?" she asked when she was finished.

"You don't need to ask, it's your room," he rolled his eyes at her as he sipped his coffee. "Where did you hide the Tylenol?"

Ziva shook her head. "Its your room," she replied. "Why do I feel as if we've had this conversation already?" she asked as she went into her bedroom to get the medication from her end table.

"Because we probably have, I dunno. Do you need help with something?"

"Nope," she replied tossing him the bottle as she passed on the way to his room to get his things. "Just need to get your things loaded and we'll be ready to head out."

"Thanks," John said, putting his mug down and opened the bottle. He started with one, he could always take another if it didn't work the way he wanted it to.

When she was finished collecting the things he had left out, she smiled at seeing that he had already put the new linen on his bed they bought the day before. It didn't take long for her to load the last items before coming back for John. "Ready?"

He quickly finished his coffee and put the bottle of Tylenol in his pocket. "Yep," he smiled as he rinsed the mug and set it in the sink. "Let's go!"


	6. Chapter 6

It was a few hours later, and after stopping at a diner on the road to sit and eat that they arrived at the cabin. Ziva raised an eyebrow as she eyed the property as she turned onto the private road up to the house. "This isn't some small cabin, is it?"

"Forgive me, I sort of lied..." John sighed as he took in the familiar sights. "My father, grandfather and his father were very successful business men and there is some money in the family... I could hardly say 'let's go to my family's summer house, which is sort of like a mini castle in the woods!'... it's really embarrassing, but much better than any hotel."

She grinned at him and shrugged. "It is alright. I don't go around advertising that my father is director of Mossad either. So what do you want to do first after we haul our things inside?"

"Well, we probably need to pull the sheets off the furniture unless Dave sent around a cleaning crew, find out how much wood we have to put in the fireplace, things like that..." John summed up. "Uhh, you see that tree over there? There's a box on the trunk." He fumbled his keys - keys of Ziva's apartment and various trivial keys he sometimes used - out of his pocket and selected the right key. "Use this key to open it and get the key that's inside the box." He chuckled. "That'll be our proper way in."

"Okay," she said as she pulled up alongside. The tree was a distance from the house yet so she left the car running while she jumped out to get the house key from the box. "Strange way of doing things," she commented when she got back in.

"Yeah I don't get it either," John chuckled.

"Well, we are here," she smiled. "Just you and I this weekend. No thinking about anything not on this land, yes?"

"About anything? So you're not going to ask me difficult to answer questions then?" John grinned.

"What questions do you fear that I would ask?" she replied.

"I don't know." John shrugged. "We'll see, at least you bought enough booze to get us both drunk." He grinned and watched how she got out of the car and dragged his wheelchair from the back. She was grinning with a devious smile as she set the chair up for him and John knew he was in trouble.

She chuckled at him. "Nothing wrong with a little alcohol to loosen inhibitions."

John shook his head laughing as he got into his chair and took a bag out of Ziva's hands before putting it in his lap. He drove up the ramp to the side of the house and opened the door, realizing that he forgot about the alarm. He groaned as it started to go off as he had driven into the hall and quickly got out of his chair, hopped to the alarm panel and hoped he was punching in the right numbers and in time otherwise security would come around very quickly to see what was going on.

When the alarm stopped, John was relieved. He hopped back to his chair and sat down before taking a peek around the corner to see if his brother had sent the cleaners over. And of course he did. Somewhere between their phone call and their arrival, Dave had sent for people to remove all sheets, clean the place up and prepare it for guests.

He and Dave didn't get along, but Dave was a sucker for detail and perfection in an almost OCD like manner.

Ziva looked around as she dropped the bags inside the main door. "This isn't camping. This is a resort vacation!"

John chuckled as he heard Ziva talk behind him. "Well you can still camp out in the front yard if you like, there are tents here."

"I'd be satisfied with the living room. At least then we wouldn't have to worry about bugs," she said making a face.

"There are beds, you know." John pointed out. "A few of them are upstairs, there's one bedroom here on the ground floor."

"Where you will be," she remarked before shaking her head. "No, I meant about sleeping outside. If we stayed indoors, there would not be any worry about bugs - unless you have bed bugs in this place?"

"Does this place look like its got bed bugs?" He grinned and got the bag with their provisions and rode it to the kitchen to put at least the perishables away.

"It is doubtful but not impossible," she replied taking his things to the first floor bedroom. When she came back, she went back to the pile and pulled out her overnight bag. "I'm just going to go upstairs and change. These jeans are starting to stick to me and becoming incredibly uncomfortable."

John watched Ziva go upstairs and sighed as he took a look around in the kitchen, then rolled to the living room. It was all so familiar and so long ago and actually a little depressing. While he had loved this place when his grandparents were still alive, when his mother was still around, he didn't like it when his dad took him and Dave here. It was all about reading, getting smarter, book smarts, math tests and achievements. Which John never really understood as there was a world out there, waiting to be explored and he did.

Whenever his father and Dave would pull out their books and notebooks, John went into the forest that was next to the property and explored. John remembered that there was a rock formation that he had called 'the land of Atlas' after having discussed the lost city of Atlantis in school the week before he had discovered the rocks. There was an area with a big old tree that he called 'Medusa', mostly because the tree looked like a head with snakes on top.

He also tried to rescue animals back then. He'd find sick animals and he'd bring them to the ranger's station where the ranger took all the time to teach John things. _That_ had always been fun.

John looked at the pictures on the chimney mantel and realized that he hadn't seen those pictures for at least a while now. There were pictures of his grandparents, his parents, and of him and Dave. Sometimes, John wished he could turn back time and would do a lot of things differently. Or maybe one day he would travel back in time and save his mother. Or beat up his dad.

Ziva came back down feeling much better in a pair of dry shorts and t-shirt. Not finding him in the kitchen that she passed, she continued on to the living room where she found him staring at the old photos. "Staying angry isn't going to change anything," she said softly as she came up behind him to look at the images.

"Oh, I'm not angry," John replied and looked up to her. "Despite them not liking me, well dad and Dave, I don't have anything to complain about. I never got hungry or I was never out of clothes and went to the best schools possible."

"Then why do you look like you want to put your fist through a wall?" she asked as she lowered herself beside his chair.

"Because things could have gone differently," he shrugged and then smiled at her. "But don't everyone wish that certain things from their past could have gone differently?"

"Perhaps but then none of us would be where we are now. I might not be at NCIS. I might be dead by my father's own orders. You might have been happily married somewhere with a big house, lovely wife, 2.5 kids and a dog."

"That's not right," John shook his head and softly touched Ziva's hair. "You're too pretty to get killed."

She let her eyes close at his touch. "Maybe but we do what we must," she said. "Orders, are orders. We may not like them but we follow them."

"Oh, so that's what I did wrong in Afghanistan. I didn't like an order so I didn't listen!" he shook his head laughing. "There's always a choice to ignore orders if you can save other people's lives by defying them."

"Maybe," she sighed, turning away as she thought about Ari and Gibbs. No matter what she did, it was a lose, lose situation there.

"Enough talk about the past," John said as he saw how Ziva was suddenly saddened about something. "Which bedroom did you choose upstairs?" he grinned.

"The first one on the left, across the landing that overlooks another sitting area with the fireplace," she said turning back to him with a grateful smile.

"Excellent choice," he nodded. "Also one of the best rooms if you like to sleep in, the sun's not on the windows early in the morning."

"Well, I figured that the large fluffy bed and black out curtains were for that use," she laughed.

John smiled. "Believe me, it's so great waking up here, hearing the birds chirp close by... it's different from in the city... the birds there almost sound... depressed."

"Like everyone else. Let's do something. Anything," Ziva said standing up. "Hell - if there are board games, I'm okay with that even!"

"There's a whole closet full," John chuckled as he started in the direction of it. "My grandparents loved Scrabble and Rummycub, so I know for a fact that's in there. The other games? I don't know really."

"Then we have something to do while we simply relax and - talk," she smiled as she looked at him, her eyes glancing over his face.

"Fine, how about you choose a game and I'll get us something to drink?" John opened the closet and a bunch of games fell out of it. "Oh."

She laughed as she watched the pieces of the games roll across the floor. "After I clean up and we figure out what goes with what."

John put his wheelchair on the breaks and lowered himself down onto the floor for easy access. "Let's do this," he chuckled.

Ziva sat across from him as she started to pick up pieces that went with the games she was more familiar with. When they were eventually finished, she looked at the pile of boxes with pursed lips. "Any game in particular that you like?"

"You pick the game," John said as he managed to get up and back into the chair. _Never been this sore!_ he thought. "I'll get us some snacks and drinks."

She rolled her eyes and nodded. "If you insist," she sighed dramatically trying to pull herself up to her feet after a moment. Grabbing the football themed Monopoly game, CLUE, and Battleship, she went to the back sitting room to set up on the coffee table, claiming her piece and waited.

He had taken a Tylenol with a glass of water before getting two beers and a bag of chips. John hoped she had picked out easy games because he wanted things to be _easy_ right now. He grinned when he saw Ziva sitting on the couch, all ready to play. "Beer?"

"Sure," she replied looking over at him with a smile. "You ready to get your ass kicked in Monopoly?"

"You mean you can actually win with Monopoly?" He grinned as he put the beer on the table and the bag of chips.

"Very much so," she replied suggestively. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes, because I suck at Monopoly then," he chuckled as he opened his beer and took a swig. "I'll be the little car."

She set him up with the token and placed her dog next to his. Passing over the play money she grinned deviously before laying out the house rules of the game as if they were playing high stakes poker. When she was done, she simply looked back at him, raising an eyebrow slightly at his reaction.

"Don't tell me you're like the Best National Monopoly player," he said shocked.

"Maybe not the best, but I have had many nights on stake out where there was little else to do," she replied, stretching her legs out under the table as she settled on the floor.

Ziva was kicking his ass at Monopoly, and before he knew it, she had more money than him and bought about three quarters of the streets. Maybe she was taking pity on him as she didn't put hotels on them but she was good. Really good.

They had had so much fun playing the game that they had lost a little track of time and it was getting dark outside. "You know, I think we should get started on dinner," he chuckled as he collected the empty beer bottles.

"Not before you concede that you are losing - again," she said as she stood to help but wouldn't let him touch the board. "And I will cook dinner. You sit. Don't touch a thing otherwise I will tie you up!"

"I am losing, but I'm not a cheater!"

"I never said you were. Perhaps I just enjoy tying people up?" she smirked as she left the room to get their food made.

"Is that a secret hobby of yours?" John asked as he rolled into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles.

"Why? Is it something that you would be interested in?" Ziva asked back as she pulled the steaks out of the fridge.

"No thanks," John said as he got another beer. "Ohh steaks!" He grinned, "Nice, juicy steaks! Want me to do the potatoes for you?"

She turned around and stared him down, narrowing her eyes. "What do you think?"

He threw his hands up in defeat. "Alright, I'll just get some firewood from outside then," John replied as he backed out of the kitchen.

Ziva shook her head and sighed as she started prepping the meat and vegetables. The man was oblivious at best at what she had just invited him to. Not that she was all that great with flirting when it came to her own interests and not related to a mission.

He put his bottle of beer on the table on the porch as he went to get some firewood for the fireplace. Luckily, the whole property was well lit, there were lights with motion sensors, and he was able to find the wood easily. If he had to believe the smell, his brother had taken care of it and had some delivered. Things would be a lot easier between John and Dave if Dave would stop giving off mixed signals.

Putting a few logs in his lap, he rolled back inside and decided to get a few more so that they wouldn't have to go out anymore. Once back inside again, his phone rang. He blinked at the name. "Lorne, hey." he frowned as he answered it.

Ziva was in the middle of sauteing the peppers and onions in Jack Daniels whiskey when he came rolling back in. Looking up, she had a confused and worried expression on her face at seeing him on the phone. _Are you okay?_ she mouthed to him.

John looked at Ziva and nodded. "No, sorry, I guess we should have checked in with you... no, we're okay..." he then chuckled. "Ziva, you managed to get rid of the FBI agents following us, and now they're worried."

"Well what part of seeing us packing up for a weekend _away_ did they not understand?" she shrugged. "I will call Gibbs when we head back into town so that he can put them back on duty."

"You hear that, Evan?" John asked his old friend. "Yeah, I know we're in no shape to... we've got at least a dozen shot guns laying around here... we'll be fine, I promise... yeah we're at the ca- thanks." He frowned at the phone as Evan had hung up on him and then looked at Ziva. "He is one worried trouper."

"And you believe that your friends did not care for you? I would not doubt if someone shows up tomorrow now, just to see that you are well for themselves," she pointed out.

"We'll just keep the door locked." John said jokingly as he brought the rest of the wood to the small pile he was building next to the fireplace.

She grinned as she returned to cooking. Creating a gravy from the left over JD she left it in a small saucepan to warm up after draining the vegetables from it. Tossing the steaks in the broiler, she waited by the stove for it to finish completely.

"Something smells good!" John called from the living room as he sat down on the floor to start the fire.

"It better be!" she called back. "You know how much I dislike steak!"

He chuckled as he finished putting the logs in and groaned as he had forgotten to bring the matches. "Ziva?"

"Yes?" she answered, drawing the word out with a slightly seductive edge to it.

"Would you please be so kind to hand me the matches? I forgot to put them in my pocket and now I can't light the fire." He looked up to the mantle. "They're all the way up there."

She made her way into the parlor and shook her head. "Now you don't wish to get out of that chair?" she teased as she made her way over, reaching up but the mantle was a bit taller than most, causing her shirt to ride up her back when she extended her arms out to collect the match book.

"I do want to get out of the chair but …" he grinned as he saw her shirt ride up. "Great view."

Ziva turned around and eyed him before smirking. "Uh huh," she laughed as she tossed the matches into his lap. "I'll bring the plates in here so you can get comfortable."

"Almost done here, thanks." John smiled up at her and shifted so he was sitting next to the fire pit to start lighting the paper and wood he had put in there. Not long after he managed to get it burning, Ziva brought in the plates. "Yum!" He said as he climbed back in his chair and then decided to make himself comfortable on the couch so he made his way over and flopped on the couch. "Ohh..." he sighed happily.

"I broiled the steak and sauteed the vegetables in whiskey. The left over juice was made into a sauce over the meat," she said as she set the dish down in front of him. Making her way around she settled on the sofa beside him, closer than they normally sat before, after they both got out of the basement.

"Smells so good," he picked up the plate and put it in his lap. "Broiled huh? Ah well, it's still steak," he joked as he dug in. "So good, you should cook more often!"

"I don't know about that. If I cook more often, it would really be more of picking up the phone and ordering take out. When I do actually cook, it's usually only for groups or events," she shrugged as she ate her dinner slowly.

John shrugged. "I liked cooking yesterday, I'm not saying that take out is bad... well most of it is, and I understand that with your job and everything you don't have time to cook, and cooking for one is always such a hassle, I know, but yeah, cook more often." He nodded and put a large piece of steak in his mouth.

Ziva made a face at him but smiled. "I'll think about it," she said eventually, focusing more on her drunken veggies.

"Or, allow me to cook every day, I'll even go down to the supermarket by myself, getting knocked in the head by heavy handbags until I get rid of this cast," he said with a full mouth. "I can make more than pasta."

"Hmm, something other than steak?" she teased. "Would you like the rest of mine?" she added, indicating the remaining half of her own steak. "I'm actually not all that hungry."

"The cooking fumes will do that to ya." John put his fork in Ziva's steak and brought it over to his plate. "This is great stuff... and yes, I can cook something other than steak too." He chuckled.

"I do not believe you," she deadpanned stubbornly until he would look up at her where she smiled slightly.

"Well," he smiled brightly, "You will never if you don't let me cook, I mean, I make a pretty decent stew, the way the juices smell when I'm cooking that, oh, that's a great great smell."

Ziva looked at him for a long minute, biting on her lip in uncertainty. Judging their distance apart, she was close enough to just lean in and test the water more, but how receptive would he be - she did not know. Taking a breath, she stared him down. "John?"

John put his plate down on the coffee table and shifted a little so he could take a better look at her. "Ziva?"

Taking a breath, she leaned in quickly, without a word and softly pressed her lips to his. She wasn't sure of how he'd react and just felt the need to get over this bridge that could very well become uncomfortable between them in their friendship.


	7. Chapter 7

When she moved away from him, he blinked at her, missing the feeling of her lips on his. He wanted them to take their time, but when you've spent four months in a basement together, they had taken all the time in the world. Even with John showing her his true self, she didn't back down and kept trying to get in.

He put both of his hands on her cheeks and returned the kiss, slowly teasing her lips to seek entrance.

Ziva smiled when he pulled her back and parted her lips to open herself up to him. He tasted gloriously to her! Everything, every touch and brush of his hand sent sparks through her body.

He kept kissing her slow and gentle and eventually had to break off the kiss to get some air. Kissing Ziva had felt so good. "We should have done that a while ago..."

"Mmhmmm," she hummed, her eyes closed and a dazed smile on her face. Slowly she looked up at him. "Yes. We should have. Maybe things won't be as difficult when we leave."

"Things? Difficult? Really? I haven't noticed!" John grinned.

She chuckled. "You John Sheppard are a very confusing man," she teased, licking her lips as she turned up to him.

"No, I'm not," he softly caressed her hair, wanting to kiss her again but wasn't sure if she'd allow him to.

Her eyes flickered over his and cocked her head to the side. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"That," he grinned and softly kissed her again. It felt so good to have humanly contact like this again. Although nothing could compare to what he felt at this point.

As their attentions to each other continued, a deeper need stirred up in Ziva, pushing herself up to her knees to move closer and onto his lap. She never once let them pull their lips apart as she did so, simply needing as much of him as she could possibly get then.

Ziva hadn't been that hungry for real food, but it almost seemed like she wanted to devour him whole, and he didn't find himself caring about that. His hands wandered across her back as they kissed after they had snuck in under her shirt.

It wasn't that he had never touched her before, it was different. Back in the basement, he just wanted to keep her warm and himself warm in the process, this was completely different. Her skin felt so soft as he caressed her. The kissing and the touching almost sent his brain into sensory overload and he loved it.

Ziva arched her back under his touch, pressing her front to him more. "John..." she moaned, shifting her kisses from his mouth, along his jaw down to his neck.

"Christ Ziva," John gasped as she moved closer to his groin area and felt her mouth on his neck. "I'm _very_ high strung..."

She couldn't say anything more than a confused grunt initially. "What are you talking about?" she asked as her hips shifted closer and her hands wandered over his body.

"I'm fortunate not to wear jeans at this time... Oh..." he put his hands on her waist, ready to lift her off off him and then looked her in the eye. "You. Are. Driving. Me. Insane," he said slowly. "If you continue doing what you're doing, I might embarrass myself."

"Oh?" she grinned as she moved his hands off her waist and nudged them upward. "I don't think that is possible with me."

"Well, I would say that when you helped me to get cleaned up in the first week after the hospital that that was pretty embarrassing..." John softly said as he reluctantly moved his hands towards where she wanted them, and softly squeezed her breasts and it felt so damn good. "But I'm afraid that this will be even more embarrassing..."

She grinned, shifting her hips more. "There are other ways I can - clean you up," she smirked, looking down with a smirk.

"Oh you minx..." John pulled her closer and kissed her greedily.

Ziva returned his kisses eagerly. Her hands gripped and pulled at his shirt, working it up until it was caught under his arms. She let out small grunt of frustration from not being able to remove it, as it would require them to pull their lips apart longer than she wanted them to be.

As Ziva tried to get his shirt off, he was doing the same with hers. "Seems like we have stumbled upon a problem..." he said while they kissed.

"No, no problem," she grinned as her hands found a firm grip and she started to pull at the fabric, trying to rip it down the middle.

"No no no no no no!" John chuckled as he took hold of her hands. "No tearing up my favourite shirt."

"Then get it off!" she whined and tugged on it again. Pouting she looked at him and pushed her hands under the fabric. "It's in my way..."

"But I'm so skinny..." John pouted as he pulled his shirt off.

As he let go of her, she quickly shunned her own shirt and took him in hungrily. "I will have to make sure that you eat more. Maybe stop at the nutrition store for protein supplements," she suggested as she leaned down to kiss his chest. Shrugging a shoulder she added, "Although you can supply all the _protein_ I need."

He groaned in the realisation that she wasn't wearing a bra. "You're so beautiful..." he said huskily as he softly caressed her breasts.

She slid down his body slowly, pushing his legs apart along the way so that she fit between them comfortably. Before long she was on her knees, gently moving his casted leg to rest on the table before turning back to him and smiled.

"Ziva? What are you doing?" John asked playfully.

She continued to smile, pulling her bottom lip in to bite on it as she reached up and started to untie his sports pants to pull down. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Oh, I could say I want you back in my lap so I can kiss you and touch you breasts, but it looks like you've already made up your mind," he chuckled.

"Maybe when I am finished," she grinned, tugging on the clothing. Her eyes grew larger as the fabric exposed more and more before her target made itself known. "Hello there..." she breathed out before working on getting his pants off completely.

He lifted up his ass so she could pull his pants off of him and groaned when he saw the look on her face; her eyes were dark with lust and the way she licked her lips was just so damn arousing.

Once she had him naked and completely at her mercy, Ziva returned to position on her knees, kissing her way up his leg to his awaiting length that stood proud at attention for her. "You okay there John?" she grinned.

John nodded as he kept his eyes on her. He had the feeling he was about to blow, which was bad. Or maybe it wasn't, he didn't know anymore. Fact was, he just wanted to fuck her brains out but he would never be able to get into the right and comfortable position to do so with his leg casted like it was.

As her lips came closer to his raging hard on, her hands were careful when around it. Gentle and soft as they brushed against it. When she felt he was squirming enough, she pressed her lips on the shaft, her tongue darting out to taste him repeatedly until she came to the head where she slowly started to take him in her mouth. Deeper, and deeper, until she took him completely.

John swallowed hard, repeatedly. _Christ on a crutch_ , he swore in his head. "Ziva..." He wanted to give her the control she didn't have when those bastards in the basement took advantage of her but she was making it really hard for him not to grab her by her head and fuck her mouth.

She hummed with him in her mouth as she worked on him to her hearts' content. Her eyes turned up to look at him before letting him go so that she could speak. "What?" she asked with a grin as she started stroking him with her hand.

He also could understand that she might not want him inside of her - yet - and shook his head. "Nothing..." he managed to say while he breathed in deeply.

Ziva smirked as she turned back to his cock, running her tongue along the underside before resuming her attentions after he managed to compose himself some.

The feeling of her tongue and hands all over his cock was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, she was so good, so beautiful as he watched her working him. John moaned as he tried to caress her hair, to push it away from her face.

Coming up again, she chuckled at the dazed look he had. "Have you had enough or do you want more?" she grinned, running her hands along his thighs as she tried to decide if she should continue to have him climax orally or if she was willing for more.

John blinked at her for a second and then goofily smiled. "I'm leaving that up to you," he managed to say. But oh, he wanted more, but he didn't want to push her into anything she didn't want to.

She stared at him for a long moment before she slowly stood up. Dropping her hands to the hem of her shorts, she took a deep breath before beginning to nudge them down. Stopping suddenly, she looked back at him with a smile and reached for his hands to pull him into a sitting position, rather than the relaxed slouch he was in. Covering his hands with hers on her waist, she pressed on them to have him work on pulling the clothing off with her help.

He helped her to get her out of her shorts and underwear and kept looking at her. "Are you sure?"

Ziva nodded wordlessly, as she kicked away the clothes from her feet and pushed him back before climbing onto him. She hovered over him not yet letting him in her. "I am sure," she grinned, reaching back to grab his length to get him in position for her.

John smiled at her as he softly caressed her sides and gently kissed her lips. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, I understand." He said softly.

"I understand too," she replied with a smile. "And if it were anyone else, I probably would have not let it come this far but I want _you_."

John kissed her greedily and fondled her breasts lightly. Everything about Ziva felt good, it felt right and she was so beautiful. It was hard to hold himself back, but he had to; not only because he couldn't move properly with his leg, but also because he didn't want to scare her off.

She returned his kisses with equal intensity as she shifted over him so that she could begin to press herself down onto his engorged cock. The feel of him stretching her inside was glorious and caused her to allow her head to fall back with a moan. She sat there for awhile once he was completely inside, to let herself adjust before she moved slowly, rolling her hips over him.

Ziva moaned softly as she found a pace for herself that she enjoyed without discomfort from her own recovery. Resting her hands on his chest as she worked him from her insides, she could feel how much body fat he lost compared to what she remembered in the basement the early nights when they were forced to huddle for warmth. It did not take away from her attraction to him whatsoever. If anything, it sparked something inside her that she never expected to feel - a sense to nurture him, to care for someone else. Almost a motherly instinct but what she wanted was far more intimate. She just wanted him.

She leaned up to kiss him as she picked up her pace. Her kisses muffled the breathy grunts that came from her after he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her to him as he thrust himself up into her more. Her head slipped to rest on his shoulder as she let him fuck her from their position on the couch. She was already long gone from any sense of coherent thoughts when he slowed down again and she took time to come down from the explosions that sent waves through her. A few more firm, steady thrusts, and she could feel him fill her in another sense that left her with a cheesy grin on her face and chuckled into his warm skin.

He fell back against the back of the couch and tried to catch his breath. "That was... wow..." he breathed and grinned at her.

"Yeah," she breathed out. "I think we found a way of you getting cardio in while you are stuck in that cast now."

John started to laugh heartily. "Oh yeah, I can already hear my therapist say 'Gee John, you're getting back in shape... well your lower body is, what happened to your legs and arms?'" He giggled and pulled her closer, softly planting a kiss on her neck as he couldn't stop giggling.

"Hmm, then we will have to work on that. What have they said about your cast? When are they going to let you start doing more?" she smiled as she made herself comfortable against him.

"Well, not this Monday, but the Monday after they're going to see how my leg's healing. And if it's going the right way, they might give me a walking cast or free me, it just depends on how my leg's behaving." He softly ran his fingers through her hair and smiled.

"Sounds like something to look forward to," she replied. "And I think that you might have an easier time if you were to use my shower. More room to maneuver around in..." Ziva added, an unspoken invitation for him to stay with her in her room when they got back from their vacation.

"More room to fall over in too," John chuckled.

"Or to enjoy each other in..."

"Hmm... that sounds great," he replied and nibbled on her earlobe.

"I don't think we'll make it to bed now. I'm too comfortable here," Ziva murmured as she shifted slightly. He was still nestled inside her and while their activities had certainly calmed down, she was in no rush to separate themselves from each other or move more than needed.

John grinned and nodded. "I'm not interested in letting you leave me here now. I don't even know where you threw my pants," he laughed. "But we have all the time in the world this weekend to do whatever we want... even extend it for a week. And right now, this is exactly where I would rather be."

"Good," Ziva said, pushing herself up and smirked at him. "Because I do plan to have another work out intended for you soon."

"You just wait until I'm fully mobile again," he warned her teasingly as he chuckled and reached for the blanket on the other end of the couch before wrapping it around him and Ziva. "Nice and warm."

"Mmhmm," she hummed as she settled back down against him, closing her eyes. For the first time since they met, she finally felt home, and safe.


End file.
